


after forever (where do we start)

by CalamityCain



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Character Death Fix, Crying, Face Slapping, Frottage, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Rape Fantasy, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 04:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14536218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: They have survived the impossible -- even cheated death -- afraid their victory is but a dream, clinging to each other with violent desire in the wake of a nightmare.





	after forever (where do we start)

**Author's Note:**

> ( a post-War fix-it fic, obviously. but mostly gratuitous sex )

 

Midnight blue and viridian. A slender shadow whose face alone gleams in the dusk where all things end and begin anew. The lingering dust of a war that cost too much to win casts the sunset world around them in a dream-like haze.

 

It takes courage to reach out and touch him. To risk being mocked by death.

 

“I thought you a dream.”

 

“I thought the same of _you,_ with your idiot look and dead eyes.” Loki’s voice is flat but his heart is pounding so hard he can barely breathe. “Speaking of which, you’re a sight better with both – ”

 

And then he can speak no more as Thor claims his mouth and pulls him into a crushing embrace. Ardent to the point of vehemence, desperate, suffocating. A possessive thunder god is a terrifying thing, all raw force and desire. Loki would have had it no other way.

 

“Tell me you’ll never leave again.” Thor’s voice is rough with tears.

 

Loki’s own face is dry; he is all wrung out now, empty and aching to be filled. “Then make me yours.” He leans in to taste those lips again, lightly, as if afraid. “Marry me.”

 

A soft breeze stirs and tickles their skin; they match each other’s silence as if locked in a dare. Then the ground disappears from beneath Loki’s feet. Thor’s arms are cradling him effortlessly as his head falls against the broad chest.

 

“You promise to be faithful?”

 

He smiles crookedly. “I promise to try.”

 

 

  
Their consummation is urgent and graceless; brutal even. Loki demands and whimpers by turn, inviting his brother’s – his _husband’s_ – unrestrained roughness, filled with a boundless need to be subjugated and claimed completely, to be crushed beneath that relentless weight.

 

After only brief hesitation, Thor gives in: slapping him hard in the face, growling threats of rape, before forcing his thighs apart and pushing into his barely prepared opening. Loki writhes and wails and sobs into the pillow while his swollen cock drips and begs for release. Again and again that massive body slams against his as if intent on splitting him apart down the middle. The sheets are sodden with pre-come before Thor will grant him release.

 

He feels as if he will die yet again from bliss. But Thor, miraculously, is yet unsated. Loki is now pulled forward onto his knees, then slapped again before his mouth is pried open. Loki moans around the thick, hard cock filling his mouth and stretching it obscenely. He does not bother to angle his head artfully like he usually does, gagging as his throat is breached, relishing the tears that flow freely from his burning eyes.

 

A hand grabs a fistful of his hair and yanks hard. This is not making love, not by a mile – no, this is being _used_ , and Loki relishes it. The harder Thor pushes, the more he draws in that brute force as if his life depended on it. He quails and begs with stifled mewls without knowing what precisely be begs for. Without caring. He will take everything his brother has to give. Having been through the void not once but twice, he needs his senses not merely filled, but assaulted. To know he is alive and that there is nowhere to go because he is _here_ and _Thor_ is here and everything is complete.

 

His vision goes dark; Thor tells him to swallow like a good boy, and he does. More than that: he suckles like a hungry child. Lusting to be full as he can be with everything Thor has to give. He chokes and coughs weakly as he is freed, finally, to gasp for air.

 

He can barely keep from collapsing as he kneels before his promised. What a sight he must look; hair hanging in sweat-dampened, come-streaked locks, more come staining his face and belly and thighs, eyes glazing over in a swoon.

 

Thor’s hands are soft now, utterly different as they ease him onto his back and clean him up with exceeding gentleness. So tender it almost hurts him; he feels more naked, peeled open, than when his body was being violated and pushed to its limits. It’s too much to bear. He turns away and covers his face in an oddly virginal gesture.

 

“Is something the matter?” Thor sounds concerned even as his own body starts to droop with exhaustion, and with relief.

 

Loki opens his mouth to answer. And starts to cry instead.

 

He feels it bubbling inside him and spilling out to his horror, an ugly sound his clamped lips fails to catch. He gives up and crumples in a shivering heap against the wonderful warmth of Thor’s bare chest. Then they are both sobbing and laughing brokenly in between. So much has gone unsaid between them; so much is needed to fill the chasm that tore them apart, the death that was and then was reversed – even as its memory lingers like a stain they can’t quite erase.

 

After a while they stop clinging white-knuckled to each other like sailors to a shipwreck. Thor runs a thumb down Loki’s narrow face, tracing the curve of a cheekbone and rubbing Loki’s lower lip. The other hand rubs gentle circles on the nape of the neck. Small gestures that never failed to soothe his brother ever since they had found a new world of wonder in each other’s bodies, on that vetiver-scented evening when they first knew each other as more than kin.

 

Inevitably, they kiss. It is not the bruising collision that had marked Loki’s return from the dead, but every bit as deep, as if they were drinking each other in. As if they had not kissed and fought and fucked a thousand times before. This, perhaps, is the true miracle of rebirth. Of resurrection. Thanos had been wrong. And to live is an act of defiance.

 

 

 

Thor is not sure which one of them woke first. Shortly after he opens his eyes, he turns to see Loki staring at the ceiling. He reaches out to grip a slender wrist – to assure himself it does not belong to a phantom. To wishful dreaming.

 

“I’m here.”

 

Thor buries his hand in Loki’s hair. “You’ll understand if I needed to make sure.”

 

Those soft lips, always softer than their mocking shape belied, part unresisting when he brushes his own against them. He traces the small nipples and savours their changing shape as they peak beneath his fingers. It isn’t long before Loki is breathing in raw and jagged sighs. Teeth hook onto lips; tongues touch and twist into each other. Loki hooks a leg on Thor’s hip to climb, in one sinuous movement, onto his broad back. He arches and presses his cock between Thor’s muscled thighs and lets out a long keening sound that matches Thor’s urgent groan.

 

Loki does not penetrate him, but instead thrusts and rubs against his ass, grinding that perfectly curved sex against his opening in slow strokes while taking Thor’s own in hand and teasing that too. The tease does not last long; much as Loki loves being a maddening little slut, for now his own needs are too urgent. The grinding picks up pace until they are thrusting and arching into each other, little more than rutting animals, climaxing in a hot sticky mess.

 

Thor sprawls boneless on his belly as he savours the sweet warm weight pressing down on him. Marvelling at how good Loki always smells even when covered in sweat. Pressed close enough to feel the rise and fall of each other’s breathing, their heartbeats start to sync.

 

Just as he is slipping into a contented lull, he feels slender fingers tighten around his shoulder.

 

“Did you mean it,” comes Loki’s heavy whisper, “when you married me?”

 

“What did you want – flowers and a parade?” Thor raised a hand to entwine his fingers with Loki’s. “Do you truly doubt me?”

 

“I doubt everything _except_ you.” The slightest tremor runs through Loki’s thin body, but Thor feels  every minute ripple. He rolls onto his back so he can hold his brother close. “I doubt my own mind…what is real and what is not. In one reality I am dead, and in one I am alive. Which should I believe?”

 

“Which would you prefer?”

 

Loki is silent for a moment before curling in closer. “I rather like this one.”

 

Thor kisses him, softly, deeply.

 

“Then stay.”

 

~


End file.
